The city was bigger than JP had ever imagined, but word traveled faster than its crowded streets. Barely two days since his arrival, people were already whispering about the strange newcomer with "lamps that shone without fire" and "stakes that zapped rabbits."
So it was no surprise when, one morning, a farmer-looking man approached JP in the merchant district. His clothes were plain, his hands calloused, but his eyes carried that desperate gleam JP recognized from every broke handyman back on Earth.
"You're the… inventor?" the man asked nervously. "The one who sells… glowing mushrooms in jars?"
JP tried not to laugh. "That's me. JP, inventor, part-time adventurer, full-time enthusiast for not dying in the dark."
The man scratched his neck. "I heard you fix things. My irrigation pump—it's old, leaks more than it waters. If you can make something to help, I'll pay. Not much, but…"
JP's ears perked up. First commission. This wasn't just tinkering in the woods; this was real work. The kind of thing that could get his name out there.
"Sir," JP said, puffing out his chest, "you have come to the right man. I will not just fix your irrigation. I will revolutionize your irrigation."
Lyra, who had tagged along, muttered from behind, "This is going to explode."
The farm was a humble patch of fields on the city's outskirts. The pump was exactly as described: half-rotted, wheezing like an asthmatic donkey. JP crouched, Appraisal flickering over the wood and rusted iron.
Item: Hand Pump (Damaged).Status: Water Efficiency – 34%. Leakage – Severe.Durability – Poor.
"Yeah, this thing's dying," JP muttered. Then his grin widened. "But I've got just the thing."
He pulled out a small crystal shard, a few scraps of copper wire, and a bit of resin paste. Lyra crossed her arms, clearly skeptical as JP began tinkering.
"See, if I run a current through the shard, I can create pressure in the chamber—force the water upward with less manual effort. Think… turbo-pump 1.0!"
The farmer tilted his head. "Turbo what?"
JP waved him off. "Trade secret."
Half an hour later, the contraption was ready. A cobbled-together pump with a crystal socket, reinforced joints, and a resin-sealed spout. JP patted it proudly. "Behold! The future of farming!"
He cranked the handle. The pump sputtered, coughed, then roared to life—water gushed out in a clean, steady stream. The farmer gasped, clapping his hands.
"It works!" he cried. "Bless the gods—it actually works!"
JP grinned smugly. "Told you. You're looking at irrigation 2.0."
Then the pump exploded.
Water blasted straight upward like a geyser, drenching JP from head to toe. The farmer yelped and stumbled back. Lyra pinched the bridge of her nose as JP sputtered, hair plastered to his forehead.
"…Okay," JP coughed, wiping his face. "So maybe it works a little too well."
The farmer laughed until tears streamed down his face. "It's messy, but it works better than the old one! You've saved me a season's worth of work, boy."
Despite the accident, the farmer pressed a small pouch of silver coins into JP's hand. "Tell people you fixed my pump. You'll have more work soon, I'm sure."
As they walked back toward the city, Lyra eyed him sidelong. "Revolutionary, huh?"
JP grinned sheepishly. "Every invention needs a beta test. That was pump 1.0. Next time? No geysers."
But the truth settled in his gut: people were noticing. Farmers, villagers, maybe even guild officials. For every grateful customer, there would be someone else—someone less friendly—watching the man who was making tools no one else could.
When they passed through the merchant district again, JP swore he saw a pair of men in fine robes watching him too closely.
Lyra noticed it as well. Her hand brushed the dagger at her hip. "You're painting a target on your back."
JP exhaled, staring down at the silver in his palm. "Maybe. But hey… at least I'm making progress."
He slipped the coins into his pouch, already imagining what materials he could buy for his next "brilliant disaster."
Somewhere in the city's higher halls, though, a merchant official was already scribbling his name into a report.